Hanah Sobek
patreon
[TB] TWILIGHT -- Prologue v1
🕑 Added 2024-05-17 15:00:04 +0000 UTCSo, Twilight went through a lot of different iterations as I was planning it, as you all saw from my spectacularly messy outline phase. Some changes were small, some were large, and when I had finally settled on the story's final version, I realized that the prologue I had already written wasn't suitable, so it needed to be rewritten!
I didn't scrap the whole thing, obviously. It's mainly this first scene with Brackenfur talking to Sandstorm and Tinystar about Shadekit, which turns into Brackenfur talking to Yellowfang about the Omen. The second part was altered as well, but less so.
The main reason this happened was that while I liked the idea of Mosspaw fulfilling some sort of prophecy with her death, I couldn't find a way to make it feel natural in the writing - so much of canon Warrior Cats stories rely on prophecies and retcons, and perhaps Mosspaw's death was better as an unfortunate result of battle rather than part of some grand design? I felt it would be better to keep the idea to myself rather than pull that trigger and alter my reader's perceptions right now - upon further thinking on it, I have found a way to incorporate this idea, though it's not exactly how it was initially conceived.
However, the conversation between Tinystar, Sandstorm, and Brackenfur (and Brackenfur and Shadekit) probably did go something along these lines, and I will confirm that Brackenfur was 100% reluctant to take Shadekit on as his apprentice after losing Mosspaw so tragically, and does bear some survivor's guilt from the incident whether it's because of the prophecy or not. The removal of the Mosspaw prophecy somewhat diminished that idea in Twilight, which contributed to this version of things not making it into the final story.
The more I thought about it, the more I felt like Twilight should end up focusing more heavily on the Omen and how prophecies with great gravity seem to alter the mindsets of those who hear them - Spottedleaf becomes consumed by it, and cats like Yellowfang and Brackenfur are ready to let severe breaches of the code slide for the sake of it. I wanted the Omen to feel like it came from somewhere rather than out of nowhere and that it's a heavy thing to bear that the rules need to bend or break for.
As an aside - another concept for Brackenfur that didn't quite make it in here is his faith. He's incredibly devoted to StarClan, and has been since he decided being a medicine cat was his calling, but something I had originally wanted to show in Twilight, something that would've contributed to the tension between him and Shadepool, was that despite his faith, Brackenfur just wasn't as connected to his ancestors as he wanted to be. Like the Mosspaw prophecy, though, I wasn't really sure how to incorporate it without possibly retconning things. This prologue does touch on it a smidge, though.
———————————————————
Prologue
“Brackenfur? Brackenfur, are you in?”
Brackenfur’s ears twitched, and he suppressed a sigh. Leafbare was finally moving off from the forest, but the air still stung of its chill, and he had wanted to linger in his nest awhile longer where it was warm.
There was one thing a medicine cat could not ignore, however, and that was the needs of his Clan – especially the needs of his Clan leader, whose voice carried through the fern glade and into the hollow stone where Brackenfur made his nest.
With a heavy sigh, Brackenfur pulled himself to his paws. His back leg protested, the old injury stiff and throbbing with old pains. It took Brackenfur a moment to steady himself. The old leg didn’t hurt often when it was warm, but in the cold moons it stung like a fox’s bite, and was as stiff as a tree.
He gave his leg a stretch, working through the pain. There are different kinds of pain, Yellowfang would say, when a younger Brackenfur complained of his exercises. This pain means it’s working; that you’ll be fine. Trust me.
Brackenfur’s whiskers twitched. He missed his old mentor deeply, that old, crotchety medicine cat who had taken him under her steely gaze after the accident on the Thunderpath that had crippled him permanently. Brackenfur had nearly lost hope, then; but Yellowfang had shown him that StarClan’s will was often confusing at first, and helped put his paws on the right path.
She certainly wouldn’t approve of me dawdling! Brackenfur thought. He peered out of his den and into the light. Tinystar and his mate, Sandstorm, were waiting for him. They sat together, tails twined, and while Brackenfur was sure they would wait forever, he knew that Clan life demanded much of them both, and patience only lasted so long.
He pushed away his reluctance, and the pain in his leg, and shuffled out of his den. He tried not to look as if he’d been roused from an overlong nap, but he was certain that he’d missed a piece of his nest in his flank, or had some other very obvious sign of his unwillingness to move.
Tinystar’s ice-blue eyes sparkled with starlight. “Caught you in a catnap?” he purred.
Brackenfur sighed. “Somewhat,” he admitted. He might’ve sat down to speak, but he knew his leg would not have approved of being laid down on the cold earth just yet. “What is it? Is there some emergency? Are the kits okay?”
“No emergency,” Tinystar mewed. His tail curled, and he glanced at Sandstorm.
The pretty pale ginger she-cat had ever been the object of Tinystar’s affections, almost from the moment the once-kittypet had stepped into the world of the Clans. She was a fierce warrior, and she towered above her mate; yet it seemed like they were the same size, if one were to measure the love between them.
“We wanted to talk with you about Shadekit,” Sandstorm meowed.
“Oh?” Brackenfur tipped his head. He glanced between the two and spotted her – their tortoiseshell daughter was hiding just outside the fern tunnel, unable to hear but clearly impatient to know what was happening inside the den. He refocused his attention back to her parents.
Tinystar and Sandstorm glanced at one another. They were thinking, and the two were in enough sync that they often thought the same thing. Brackenfur sensed some worry, some uncertainty as they gathered their words.
Then, finally, Tinystar meowed, “Shadekit wants to become a medicine cat.”
Brackenfur might have been shocked, but he just wasn’t - for about two moons, Shadekit had hovered around the medicine cat den. Instead of stalking imaginary mice with her littermate Nightkit, she was sneaking her way into the ferns, sniffing out plants and moss and healing the pretend wounds of fresh-kill. Brackenfur had had to chase her from his den – where his precious herbs were stored – more than once. She at least seemed very curious.
But his apprentice? Brackenfur’s shoulders stiffened.
“We know you still grieve Mosspaw,” Sandstorm soothed, her tone soft. “We all do. Her death was...”
Tragic. Unfortunate. Sad. He’d heard it all before. He tried not to stare at his paws. It wasn’t her time.
It truly wasn’t.
Tinystar diverted the conversation, as if sensing Brackenfur’s discomfort: “Shadekit has seen StarClan in her dreams, Brackenfur.” The fur along his shoulders had lifted. “That means something!”
Mosspaw had dreams, too. Brackenfur scowled. “What did she see?” he asked.
“She claims to have seen Spottedleaf,” Sandstorm hissed. Her green eyes were sharp. “How could she even know who that is, if Spottedleaf hadn’t visited her?”
“The elders might have told her enough stories to give her dreams,” Brackenfur meowed, licking his chest fur in an effort to disguise his unease. “Dappletail was Spottedleaf’s mother, after all. She wouldn’t want her kits’ memories forgotten, not after losing so many of them.”
“This was different, Brackenfur,” Tinystar insisted. He stepped forward, his ice-blue eyes hard and serious. “The way she described the dream... I’m sure of it.”
Brackenfur met his leader’s gaze, counting the stars within. Tinystar had had dreams of StarClan even before coming to the forest – if any cat could recognize the signs, it would be him.
“Very well,” Brackenfur sighed. “Have her come inside. I would speak with her privately about this.”
“Thank you,” Tinystar purred. Beside him, Sandstorm looked pleased.
Tinystar and Sandstorm glanced again at one another, and, as one, rose and left. They paused at the fern tunnel to deliver Brackenfur’s message and soon enough, Shadekit was trotting into the medicine cat’s den, her tail up and eyes bright as ripe juniper berries.
“You wish to become my apprentice?” Brackenfur decided to cut right to the point. There was no use dawdling, as Yellowfang would say. “Are you certain?”
Shadekit looked caught off guard by his directness. It took her a moment to respond, but when she did, her voice was firm: “Yes! More certain of it than anything.”
Brackenfur stared at the kit. Her apprentice ceremony was likely days away. How long could she have been seriously thinking about this, really?
“Being a medicine cat is nothing like being a warrior, Shadekit,” Brackenfur went on. “With me, you will learn not to hunt or fight, but to heal and to advise, and to listen to StarClan when they speak with words and the world around us. You will not live the same life as your Clanmates. There are things about being a medicine cat that not even Nightkit will ever understand.”
Shadekit blinked, looking puzzled. “But we know everything about each other!” she exclaimed.
Brackenfur lowered his muzzle, feeling some sympathy for her. She and Nightkit had been inseparable since birth. There seemed to be this unspoken connection between them, and they were always far more conscious of one another than most littermates ever were, in Brackenfur’s experience. If she were to become a medicine cat, this would likely be her hardest lesson.
“And I know everything about my littermates,” he expressed, “but there are still things that I cannot tell them.”
Shadekit looked perturbed. She worked her paws into the cold earth, clearly thinking.
Brackenfur added, softly, “Another thing to think on is this, little one – when you become a medicine cat, you forsake the choice to take a mate, and have a family of your own. This is the oldest rule of the medicine cats, and our most sacred.”
Shadekit’s eyes drew up, growing round. “Really?” she gasped. “But... why?”
“Because to a medicine cat, their Clan is their kin,” Brackenfur explained. He curled his tail around his paws. “We must love each Clanmate equally, for putting even one of them above the rest could spell disaster. When it comes to healing, there can be no room for favorites.”
Shadekit’s eyes narrowed again. Brackenfur thought he saw her tail tremble. His heart thudded in his ears. Was she reconsidering, now? He had to admit that he was trying to scare her out of it, but if she really had been dreaming of Spottedleaf so clearly, then he couldn’t risk that connection to StarClan going unsupervised.
But Shadekit stood strong, and she declared, “I can do it,” in her firmest tone. It reminded Brackenfur of her Tinystar. “I will do it! It’s my destiny – that's what Spottedleaf told me!”
Brackenfur’s ear twitched. Spottedleaf really spoke to her? And she understood?! This kit’s connection to StarClan already outshone her father’s, then – it often took medicine cat apprentices seasons before they could properly hear StarClan’s words, and that was often only at the Moonstone!
His heart beat rapidly in his chest, now. A connection to StarClan that strong had to be nurtured carefully, observed and cared for. If it ran out of paw, it could spell disaster. He could see the darkness moving in to claim Shadekit already, and the doom it would bring to ThunderClan if that happened.
Brackenfur forced himself to swallow back his fear – Shadekit was waiting for his answer.
“I will tell your father that you will be my apprentice,” Brackenfur declared. He hoped to hide the tremor in his voice, but he wasn’t sure he had.
When Shadekit looked to yowl with joy, he put his tail before her nose to silence her. He chided, “Your first lesson: A medicine cat does not yowl without a good reason! You’ll scare half the camp!”
Shadekit closed her jaws. She did her best to contain herself, and she dipped her head. “Thank you, Brackenfur!” She meowed, her voice as level as an excited kitten’s could be. “I won’t let you down!”
As she scampered off, heading straight for the nursery to tell her brother, Brackenfur let his haunches fall. He dug his claws into the cold earth. When he closed his eyes, he saw Mosspaw thrusting herself out to protect him, and the broken remains of her body mere moments later. He saw a shattered bone beneath a curled frond of bracken, an ill omen of death.
His leg ached terribly.
It should have been me.
He looked up from his paws, watching the small shapes of Shadekit and Nightkit wrestling together. They rolled and rolled into Mousefur, who was trying to eat on her own. The senior warrior jumped up and hissed, cranky, and Shadekit crowed proudly in a voice that carried throughout the camp: “You can’t hiss at me, I’m going to be the next ThunderClan medicine cat!”
———————————————————
Brackenfur blinked open his eyes, feeling rested and rejuvenated to his core.
The Moonpool!
He couldn’t believe it. He had to admit that lately his doubts about the lake being the Clans’ new home were beginning to surface – there was plenty of room for all four Clans, yes, but with no way of contacting StarClan, how could they truly thrive?
But now the answer was here, stretching before his eyes. The waters of the Moonpool were still and the stony hollow around them was quiet but for the babble of the small waterfalls that cascaded down to the gorge. The air here tasted of starlight and wisdom and, if he searched, Brackenfur could almost smell Yellowfang.
“I can’t believe it,” whispered Ryewhisper. The young WindClan medicine cat was getting to his paws, his eyes bright. “The Moonpool!”
“It’s breathtaking,” Barkface rasped. He dipped his head to Shadepaw. “StarClan led you well, little one.”
Brackenfur glanced at his apprentice. She was by his side, still uncurling from her own starry dreams. He wondered what she had been told – there was a gleam in her eye that he recognized, one that troubled him just a bit.
Her mind is set on something.
“It was an honor,” Shadepaw replied, her voice even. Her tail curled around her paws. “A wonder.”
Beyond her, Mothwing yawned deeply. The lovely golden she-cat began licking her chest fur, as if she were doing a proper morning wash. It seemed she had nothing to say, one way or the other.
“What now?” Shadepaw wondered, her breath clouding before her nose. The true chill of leafbare was settling in now that the excitement was fading.
“We tell the Clans,” Brackenfur told her. He swiveled his gaze to Barkface. “And you get Onewhisker here as soon as possible.”
“Definitely,” Mothwing mewed. She tasted the air and commented, “I can taste moisture – there's going to be a big storm, I think...”
Barkface nodded solemnly. WindClan being without a proper leader would only cause trouble the longer it went on. Almost every other Clan was seeing evidence of their shaky position.
Littlecloud of ShadowClan cleared his throat: “It’s a long journey home. We mustn’t delay!”
The others nodded in agreement, but Brackenfur frowned.
“Hold,” he meowed. Though he could feel the urgency in the air, and the cold in his paws told him otherwise, he couldn’t help himself: “There is one more thing I must do.”
Silence befell the hollow of the Moonpool. Brackenfur took a deep breath and caught Yellowfang’s scent once again in his nose. He could almost feel her pelt brushing against his, urging him on, pushing the right words to his mind - the words that she had spoken to him many seasons ago, before the Moonstone.
Yes, this was the right time.
“I, Brackenfur, chosen medicine cat of ThunderClan, ask that StarClan look down upon this apprentice.” He heard Shadepaw take in a breath, and though his eyes were raised to the stars, he imagined that she was wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. “She has trained hard to understand your ways, see your signs, guide her Clan, and heal her Clanmates, and with your guidance she will serve you and her Clan for many more moons.”
Finally, he looked down on Shadepaw.
“Shadepaw, do you swear to uphold the ways of the medicince cat – to stand apart from the rivalries of Clan and Clan, and protect all the lives beneath the skies of StarClan equally, even at the cost of your life?”
Shadepaw’s eyes were wide to their whites, but her response was immediate and resounding: “I do.”
Brackenfur leaned forward and touched his nose to her forehead. “Then I name you Shadepool, medicine cat of ThunderClan, in honor of this place that you have found through unyielding faith. Your determination and care for others shall serve ThunderClan and StarClan for seasons to come.”
Though they all knew that time was of the essence, each medicine cat lifted their muzzles and called her new name to the skies:
“Shadepool! Shadepool!”
The chorus of congratulations died, and swiftly the medicine cats departed, traveling single-file up the winding trail out of the Moonpool’s protective hollow and out into the snow. When they were all beyond the hawthorn they said their good-byes, and Brackenfur wished Barkface and Ryewhisper the speed of StarClan, not envying their task one whisker.
Mothwing and Littlecloud left next, paying little regard to WindClan’s troubles. They would likely be buzzing excitedly about the Moonpool all the way into their territories on the other side of the lake.
“Do you think WindClan will be okay?” Shadepool wondered, once they had gone. Brackenfur did not miss how her eyes strayed towards the moorland, how impatiently she kneaded her paws against the earth.
“WindClan’s fate is in StarClan’s paws, now,” Brackenfur told her.
“But did they see anything that might help, one way or the other?” Shadepool pressed.
Brackenfur flicked his tail. StarClan would not have appreciated it if he’d called her nosy during her naming ceremony, but she had certainly become such lately, especially since her return from the chosen cat’s journey. Did she think he hadn’t noticed?
“A medicine cat’s priority is their Clan, first and foremost,” Brackenfur reminded her. He got to his paws, feeling the cold creep into his joints. “Now, we must get home.”
Shadepool frowned, looking unsatisfied. But she obeyed, leading the way down the hills and towards ThunderClan’s forest.
Brackenfur had to admit that he wasn’t overly fond of ThunderClan’s new territory, but that was only due to his leg. It felt like it took him twice as long to get anywhere, hobbling over hidden cliffs and giant roots that hadn’t existed in the old forest. If he were a younger, healthier cat, perhaps he would see it all as an adventure – now, though, it felt like his leg was pained all the time.
Despite all the care that Shadepool took, however, Brackenfur still found himself losing his footing – a drop that was easy for his apprentice had him plummeting half a tail-length to the ground, his flailing paws tangling in a leafless bracken bush and his leg smarting terribly.
“Hang on!” Shadepool yowled.
She worked hard to untangle him quickly, and Brackenfur lay still while she worked, knowing that thrashing would only make a harder job of it. Shadepool was no Dustpelt, however, and it was still dark – he could hear her cursing between breaths as she struggled.
Brackenfur sighed and thought of Yellowfang, who would have berated him jovially for not watching his step. The amusement warmed his pelt in the deep leafbare cold. Mothwing was right – as Brackenfur lay there, he could smell moisture in the air. There would certainly be a terrible storm soon.
Finally, he was untangled. Shadepool helped him to his paws. Brackenfur stood and sighed, testing his leg on the ground – it hurt, still, but they couldn’t stay out here in the open, not so far outside of ThunderClan territory.
“Are you okay to keep going?” Shadepool asked. Her amber gaze darted to his leg. “There might be something nearby to help with the pain...”
Brackenfur shook his head. That was unlikely, out here in the unfamiliar scrubland. “We must go on,” he assured.
Shadepool looked unsure, but she didn't fight him. She walked away more carefully this time, almost down on her belly to root out anything that might trip her mentor up. Brackenfur found the sight amusing.
He took a step to follow, and something crunched beneath his paw.
Brackenfur looked down, confused. Shadepool hadn’t stepped on anything, so what was there? He lifted his paw, and his body went cold; colder than the frigid night air.
A shattered cluster of bones, and a curled frond of bracken. It was half-hidden in the scattered snow, but it was there.
“Brackenfur?” Shadepool’s voice came from far ahead. “It’s a long way, still!”
Brackenfur’s mouth was dry. “I’m coming!” he managed. He took a deep breath, feeling the cold air sear his lungs. “I’m coming...”
He stepped around the omen, carefully, not wanting to disturb it any further. All the way home his pelt crawled, and he could barely feel the pain in his leg for the foreboding in his heart.
The omen had returned, and death would soon follow.
